Jedi Vigilante
by SteelVoltage
Summary: A young Jedi Knight, survivor of Order 66, must come to terms with his fear and do what is right.


**Jedi Vigilante:**

**Righteousness**

**Dantooine**_  
_

Fahon emptied his mind of all thought.

Eyes closed, he sat cross-legged on a black plastoid cargo crate with his hands resting on his knees. The clarity of meditation opened him to the subtleties of the Force. He let the universal energy flow through him. Within the current, he could feel the life force of thousands of living beings on Dantooine. Each was like a star sparkling in the night sky. The sensation had a lightness to it, a melody. It felt almost as if he were a small pebble in a mountain stream.

A stream poisoned by the dark side.

The discovery of the dark taint was jarring. It brought with it a haunted specter from his memories. The hallowed faces of dead Jedi comrades filled his mind's eye. He saw the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, burning, after being ransacked by troopers in white armor.

The grim, marred and wrinkled face of Palpatine was seared into his mind.

The very leader of the Republic, now the Empire, was a Sith Lord.

It hadn't been hard for Fahon to ascertain the truth of what happened. He had found it peculiar that the beacon of the Jedi Temple had warned him away.

Soon after the war had ended, through his investigations, he learned that Count Dooku had been slain in the Battle of Coruscant. And not long after a new Sith, Darth Vader, had replaced him. Except, it was not in leadership of the Confederacy, but of the Empire. Not only did it verify the plot to overthrow the Republic, it pointed to the fact that there was a master in charge.

There were always two Sith.

During the days of the Republic, Palpatine had hidden his true nature. But now, he and his new Empire reeked of the dark side. Only a Sith Lord could have turned the entire galaxy against the Jedi.

Fahon, much like the rest of the Jedi Knights, had trusted Palpatine's judgment and wisdom during the turbulent times of the Clone Wars. Palpatine seemed to be a noble man who tried to keep the waning Republic together. Despite all of his words, his kindly appearance, and his heartfelt demeanor, he had been nothing more than a scheming wizard of the dark side. He cooed the entire galaxy into a false embrace, only to drive a vibrodagger into their hearts.

Yet, most didn't have a clue what really had happened, most saw it as a good change, they welcomed it. To the average galactic citizen, there was no difference between Jedi and Sith, both were otherworldly mystics. Branded traitors, the Jedi were now the enemy of the people.

The pain of Jedi Order's loss, his own loss, wrenched Fahon out of meditation.

His green eyes flicked open. Under blue coveralls, his flesh was slick with sweat. His brown hair, tied back with string, was matted down from it.

He steeled himself against the dark emotions growing in his heart. There was no emotion; there was peace. Yet, he could not find it, not even in the simplest of Jedi meditation exercises.

No longer could he serve the defunct Jedi Order. Doing so would only bring him a swift death at the hand of Palpatine's assassin, Darth Vader. Fahon was confident that the Force would guide him and protect him, but he was also a realist. There was no facing the Sith alone and surviving. Other Jedi survivors had faced Lord Vader, only to suffer the consequence of death.

Focusing on the problem, instead of the solution, would get him nowhere. Fahon had to be patient; he had to continue to hide. Deep down, whether by some indication from the Force, or simple intuition, he knew that other Jedi still survived. They also had learned to lay low and to wait for the opportune moment to emerge once again. He would continue his traveling and seek them out. When he found them, they could regroup and meditate together. With the Force as their ally, they would find a solution together.

He unraveled his legs and hopped down on to the deck.

The cargo hold of his _Wayfarer_-class transport was big enough to hold two Z95 Headhunters and still have room for freight, was beginning to feel empty. At one point the entire hold had been packed full of crates of bacta. He was down to a few dozen.

Although he could make a small fortune from it, he charged very little for the miracle substance. It was just enough to pay for his ship's upkeep, supplies and food. Keeping to the Outer Rim, he found buyers. They were the desperate sort, those who received no aide from the Empire. Just a few bacta patches could make a big difference and save many lives.

Punching a red button, the ship's ramp extended with a hydraulic hiss. The cool Dantooine air invaded his senses, causing his flesh to rise in goosebumps and his nostrils to recoil from the putrid stench of fertilizer. The Khoonda spaceport was little more than a flat duracrete pad. There were three other ships parked nearby. Two were rickety Corellian freighters and another was an ancient SoroSub yacht that looked to be little more luxurious than a junkyard. There was no port crew nor any sort of check in station.

As far as his eyes could see, the olive drab plains of Dantooine rolled out. In some places, they were spotted with small groves of stout and bulbous blba trees. Fields of crops, in assorted browns and greens surrounded the town, looking like a dejarik board.

Khoonda sat below the spaceport ridge. The heart of the town consisted of a cluster of circular duracrete buildings with slate tiled roofs. Poorly made huts of coarse stone and wood were clustered towards the edges.

Tucked in the back of the cargo container was his small, dull gray, SoroSub airspeeder. It had a flat cargo bed, making it a nice delivery truck. Most the worlds he brought bacta to didn't have facilities to unload and transport it. He loaded two bacta crates onto the airspeeder. They were heavy, but he had a strong back, lifting them up with both arms. He secured them down with orange straps.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he buckled the restraints and fired up the engines. They came to life with a low whine and the airspeeder hovered off the deck. He depressed the accelerator, flying in straight line out of the belly of the _Wayfarer _andinto the blue skies.

His client was a local physician and surgeon named Dem Kassick. There were no hospitals in Khoonda; Doctor Kassick's practice was the only medical facility in the entire town. The nearest hospital was far off in the city of Garang, on the other side of the planet. From what Fahon understood from their conversation, Kassick had many patients and few medical supplies to work with. The bacta would save many lives on the frontier.

Kassick's house and practice were in the same building. He had a three story manor, with a circular roof, in the heart of Khoonda's marketplace. There was a large square beside where he live, paved with flagstones. An assortment of airspeeders, landspeeders and swoop bikes were parked there, with little order. Crowded nearby, people were visiting market stalls and tents.

On the other side of the square, across from doctor's, was a cantina. A giant neon green sign indicated its name as the Kath Hound. Fahon set his airspeeder down gently next to the curb.

As he hopped out, a duo of grizzly men in flaxen tunics, passed by the Doctor's without so much as a greeting. They crossed the square, straight into mouth of the Kath Hound. Fahon watched the other people as he worked to unstrap his cargo. The citizens of Dantooine were a dour folk. Most seemed very pour, wearing little more than homespun rags and bantha hides. They didn't delight over any of the things they shopped for. From what he could see, the items they were buying were necessities like food, textiles, soaps and tools. Most were homemade, nothing like the manufactured and packaged goods one would find at market in the Core Worlds.

A friendly man with a round face and a happy demeanor approached with two lumbering bantha cows in tow. A crowd parted for the beasts as they waddled through, looking uncomfortable with so many people surrounding them.

Crossing the empty place between the market and the Doctor's, the man tipped his wide brimmed sun hat to Fahon in greeting. Fahon nodded solemnly in return.

"Here to see the Doc?" the man asked.

"Yes, I have a delivery of bacta," Fahon said.

The man's eyes widened in surprise and he let out a low whistle. "Bacta, you say, that's gotta fetch a high price."

"Not from me," Fahon said. "I'm a simple scavenger, lucky that anyone would buy Republic stamped goods."

"I'm here to see if the Doc could take a look at my cow Jessup here, she's got a nasty wound on her leg."

The lead bantha did have a wound, the wiry brown fur surrounding it was matted with blood. Fahon couldn't make out the severity.

A moment later, he felt a presence approaching from behind. It was the doctor. He wore a stained lab coat that seemed more yellow than white. His gruff and unshaven face was complemented by deep blue empathetic eyes.

He passed Fahon, giving a curt nod, before examining the bantha. The big cow grunted a warning as the doctor crouched next to her bloodied extremity. With no hesitation, the doctor stuck his finger through the fur and into her leg wound. Jessup groaned aloud from the pain and backed up a few paces. Fahon was surprised, as not many a man would be brave enough to jab a wounded bantha,

"Seems to me that someone shot your bantha Rogar," Doctor Kassick said as he rose.

Rogar was appalled. "Shot my bantha, but why?"

"I don't know the why, just the how," the Doctor said followed by a tired sigh. "That's a blaster bolt wound. By nature it's cauterized already, but is starting to get infected and puss up. If you help bring in this load of bacta, I'll get you some antibiotics to give her to help fight the infection."

"I thought you were a doctor, not a veterinarian?" Fahon asked as he finished unstrapping the crates.

Doctor Kassick pulled a sanitizing wipe from a small belt pouch under his lab coat and cleaned off his hands. He seemed amused by the question.

"Out here doctor, physician, surgeon, nurse, veterinarian, they're all the same thing."

Through the Force, Fahon could feel malevolent intent, but not from the doctor or Rogar. He came around the side of his airspeeder and saw a group of men emerge from the Kath Hound. The men were drunk, rowdy and moving straight towards the doctor's. They were not simple farmers nor villagers, but burly and armed men. From the helmets tucked under the arms of a few, Fahon figured them to be a part of a swoop gang.

Their leader, however, was quite different. He bore the face Fahon had seen on thousands of clones. He was a bit stockier, not lean like Fahon had remembered his brethren. His hair had grown to ear length, far from the old regulations. He wore the shoulder pauldrons and the chest piece of Phase II clone trooper armor, with a black long sleeved tunic beneath. A brown cloak swayed behind him as he walked. Resting at his hips was a slanted leather gun belt with two blaster pistols tucked in the holsters.

"I told you that you missed Kendri," the leader said to a man at the end of the group,with short blonde hair. "Now hand over my hundred credits."

"I still hit the damn thing."

"Doesn't matter."

Kendri sighed and produced a handful of yellow chips from his wallet. He slapped them into his boss's hand. The leader counted them and nodded to Kendri before slipping them into his pocket.

"It's Rend and his gang," Doctor Kassick whispered to Fahon. "They think they own the whole town."

"Why would your boy shoot my bantha?" Rogar asked, his voice little more than a whisper. Fahon could feel the anger swelling inside of him.

"Well, it's pretty tough to hit a target while moving full speed on a swoop bike, even something as big as a bantha," Rend said followed by a humorless grin. "Kendri said it would be easy. He guaranteed he would get a head shot, I begged to differ. Simple bet, that's all."

Rogar patted Jessup, between her horns, with empathy. He looked distraught at the idea that anyone would want to hurt her. The suffering cow nuzzled his hand.

Rend turned his attention from the bantha to Fahon and Doctor Kassick. Fahon felt a second spike of fear, this one coming from the Doctor. Rend's predatory eyes fell upon the cargo on the back of Fahon's airspeeder.

"A special delivery, I see," Rend said and walked over to the airspeeder. He popped the top of the crate to look inside.

"They belong to the Doctor," Fahon said.

"Bacta," Rend said as he flipped through the packets. "Nice, useful, expensive, I'll be taking it."

"I don't think so," Fahon said.

"Rend, this bacta is vital. You know that even you and your men are entitled to my medical care. Please, do not steal from the rest of the people. They need it too," Doctor Kassick pleaded.

Rend guffawed. "Cute Doc, real cute. Kendri, Oslow, take these crates and strap them to your speeder bikes."

The two thugs moved to take the crates, but Fahon stepped in front of them. His defiant move produced a snicker out of both of them. They flashed insidious looks to each other before attacking him.

Oslow, a big bald man, threw a heavy punch at Fahon's face. It never landed. Fahon grabbed his fist out of the air and wrenched it to the right. With his other arm, he planted his palm into Oslow's nose, breaking it with a sickening crunch. Blood gushed from his nostrils.

Fahon heard the clatter of weapons being drawn. Within seconds he had four blaster pistols trained on him. Oslow backed off, gripping his bloody nose with one hand, as he fumbled to get his pistol draw with the other.

He screamed for them to shoot Fahon, but they didn't. Kendri seemed somewhat amused that his big brute of a friend was injured, but drew his pistol anyway.

Fahon's anger was burning. With the Force, he could strip them all of their blasters before they even got a chance to squeeze a shot. He could tear them all to shreds. They were nothing but street thugs, common thieves, stealing from helpless villagers.

The sensation was overwhelming. Never before had he felt such power. It rippled through him, gathered at his fingertips, ready for his command. It made him feel as if he could accomplish anything.

As the stand off lingered, he began to sober. Bells of warning were ringing in his back of his mind. Their noise drowned by the weight of his anger. He took a deep breath, cooling himself.

The end of Rend's blaster pistol found the center of his back. Slowly, Fahon raised his hands up in surrender.

"Let's do this the easy way, shall we?" Rend said.

Fahon retreated back, next to the doctor. Rend swiveled around, blaster pointed at Fahon's chest. As he moved, his cloak swayed to the side. Something gleamed from the back his gun belt. It was a polished metal cylinder with a black rubber grip, control knobs and a nozzle emitter. Fahon instantly recognized it. Rend had a lightsaber.

The thought of how the clone thug had come across the weapon of a Jedi made Fahon feel nauseous. He had discarded his own lightsaber when the Republic had fallen. Carrying a lightsaber was far too risky in the New Order. He felt a longing for the weapon. With it he could end the situation quickly. All he had to do was call upon the Force and in a second the weapon would be in his hand

But a cool rationality set in. He couldn't do anything with the Force here, not with the hundreds of people around. Fighting the gang would only endanger lives around him and wouldn't bring any good. Besides, it was one thing for people to see a lightsaber, but another to see a Jedi swatting blaster bolts with one. Rumor would spread. It wouldn't be long until the Empire picked up on it. By doing so, Fahon would give the hounds a trail to follow.

"Come on son," Doctor Kassick said, tugging on Fahon's sleeve. "Let's go inside. You too Rogar, we'll get you some antibiotics for your bantha."

Rend holstered his pistol and motioned his boys to make their move. Kendri and another thug took the crates of bacta and started toward the cluster of swoop bikes parked near the Kath Hound. The doctor and Rogar went inside. Fahon remained on the steps, watching as the swoop gang tied down his crates on their swoops and zipped off.

Inside, Fahon found Rogar in a small waiting room. There wasn't anything special, just a few wooden benches against the walls and a rack of out-of-date holozines. Rogar had taken of his hat, it was clenched in both fists as he paced furiously.

"How would Rend like it if I shot him with a blaster?" Rogar said. "My poor Jessup, she didn't deserve it!"

Doctor Kassick emerged from his supply room carrying two canisters, one in each hand. "You're a bantha herder. You don't even know how to use a blaster."

"So, I could learn."

He handed Rogar the canisters. "Spray the antibiotic foam into her wound. It will eliminate the infection and seal it from further exposure. Keep the other canister in case they decide to shoot at your banthas some more."

"How much do I owe you Doc?" Rogar asked

"Nothing," the doctor said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just run along." He pointed a stern finger. "Don't you go getting yourself in trouble."

"I won't, Doc," Rogar said and tipped his hat gratefully. He turned to Fahon. "Sorry about your shipment. I'm glad you broke that punk's nose though."

Fahon waved him off. "Like the good doctor said, you concern yourself with getting Jessup better. She's a pretty bantha, healthy and strong, I'd hate to see that infection kill her."

Rogar gave him a wide smile. "Never heard an outsider call a bantha pretty before. You sir, are a good man."

"Does Khoonda not have a constable or a sheriff?" Fahon asked after Rogar had left.

"We do, but they are simple lawmen, not trained killers like Rend. No one is brave enough to stop him. You seem, however, to have a death wish."

"I couldn't stand by and let them take my shipment."  
"I guess I've learned long ago not to argue with a man holding a blaster," the doctor said and motioned for Fahon to follow him. "Come, I was just making some stew before you showed up. I'm sure a traveler like you is quite hungry."

He led Fahon down a hall that curved around the outside of the structure. There were several doors open. Inside were empty examination rooms. Fahon wasn't surprised not to see a single medical droid. The doctor truly ran backwater practice. There were no patients here. Fahon assumed that few could afford his services.

They took a flight of steps to the second floor. The doctor slid a keycard through a lock and a door opened up into his apartment. It was quaint, the sort of living quarters a Jedi might have, simple, without any unnecessary possessions or frivolities.

On a small table next to the coat rack, Fahon saw a small holo-still of the doctor. In the image, he looked much younger and was standing next to a pretty woman with blond hair, his arm around her waist. The backdrop was not Dantooine. It appeared to be Coruscant, from the signature towering skyscrapers and zooming airspeeders, frozen in time.

The living room had a table with a few chairs and computer desk next to the window. The kitchen opened into the living room and Fahon could smell the hearty aroma of the stew cooking on the stove.

"You should band together and stand up for yourselves. There are more of you than him," Fahon said.  
The doctor shook his head. "If only it were that easy. Nothing is ever easy."

He checked the pot and stirred it with a big spoon. "You could say the same thing about the Empire. They are no different than Rend, stealing from the little people who have no guns. There are a lot more of us than there are them. Yet, no one has joined together to oppose them."

"They will," Fahon said as he took a seat at the table, "some day."

"I doubt it," the Doctor said. He retrieved two ceramic bowls from his cupboard and with a ladle filled them to the brim. "Nerf steak stew," he said as he set the steaming bowl down in front of Fahon. "Enjoy."

"This is very good," Fahon said after a few spoonfuls. It was savory. He didn't realize how famished he had been until he put the food to his lips. He had been living off of protein pastes and dry rations for so long that he had forgotten how home cooked food tasted.

"My wife used to make it," the doctor said. "If you think this is good, you would have been blown away by hers."

"Where is she?" Fahon asked, innocently enough.

"Dead."

"Oh," was all Fahon managed to say after a long pause. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

"She was killed during the Battle of Coruscant," the doctor said, the pang of regret still evident in his voice.

Fahon wanted to say that she still lived on, through the Force, but decided against it. The last thing a widower needed to hear was quasi-religious banter.

His wife was dead, that was a very real thing to him. To most people, the Force was merely religious superstition. They didn't understand it the way a Jedi did. In many ways they only saw the universe in black and white, while Jedi saw it in the full rainbow of color.

"Those damn droids, they slew anything that moved," Fahon said.

"No, it wasn't the droids that killed her. It was Republic friendly fire. She was cut down trying to flee a firefight," the doctor said. "She was a very kind woman. She didn't deserve to die the way she did."

"The war took too many unwarranted lives," Fahon said, the pain in his voice was real as he thought of all the Jedi who had perished.

A few minutes later, he finished his bowl and the doctor served him up another, this time with a few pieces of grainy bread. The doctor soaked the juice of the stew into a piece and chomped it down.

"Tell me Fahon," the doctor said after swallowing. "Do you have any more bacta?"

"I do," Fahon said. "But I promised it to others. I don't have any extra to give out"

"I figured as much," the doctor said.

Fahon wondered exactly what he was doing. He was a Jedi Knight, sworn to protect and serve the citizens of the galaxy, yet he was acting like a coward. Before the rise of the Empire, he would have never stood by and let one man steal from another. He would have done what was right. Now, he was looking only to save his own skin, to prevent his own death.

If he couldn't stand up now, he would never be able to. He had to stop looking back. The past was dead, the future was life. Fear was controlling him. He knew that slowly the same fear would lead him to the dark side. Any Jedi Master would have told him, he needed to let go of all he feared to lose. That meant fear of losing his own life. Self preservation at the cost of others had no meaning to a Jedi. Countless Jedi had died protecting others. Sacrifice, in the name of peace and civilization, was a cost any Jedi was willing to pay.

Running straight into the heart of the Empire, swinging a lightsaber, would be stupid and get him killed. But a Jedi didn't always have to fight his enemy directly. Sometimes the smallest of deeds could make the biggest difference. He could still help people and protect the weak.

"Tell me Doctor, do you know where Rend and his gang might go?"

The doctor studied him for a long moment. "I've seen men with that look before. Men who went off to do stupid things. Tell me, you're not thinking of doing a stupid thing?"

As much as Fahon wanted to say that he was a Jedi and had nothing to fear from a handful of thugs, he didn't.

"I guess you could say it would be a stupid thing," Fahon said. "So, do you know where they might go?"

"From what I've heard, they've taken over the old Jarok Manor up in the Burad Hills."

Fahon stood. "Thank you for the dinner, I am most appreciative. I will return, with your bacta, that I promise."

The doctor sighed. "There's no way I'm going to be able to talk you out of this, is there?"

"Not at all."

The doctor rose and left the living room. He went to the table with the hologram still of his wife and himself and opened a drawer. From it, he produced a sleek silver hold-out blaster. After spinning it around, he offered it grip first to Fahon.

"If you're going up there to die, I don't want you to do it without a blaster in your hand."

Although Fahon didn't need the blaster, he took it anyway out of a sign of respect. He tucked it in one of the pockets on his blue coveralls. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Be careful," the doctor said.

"I am not as frail as I may seem," Fahon said. "There's no need for you to worry."

The doctor managed a half smirk. "I figured as much when I saw you break that brute's nose. You definitely are more than an average trader, that's for sure. But, you're dealing with deadly men. I know you wouldn't go if you didn't know what you were doing, so I'm not going to question it. I just hope you return."

"I will," Fahon said.

The doctor offered his hand and they both shook firmly.

The sun was starting to go down in the west when Fahon jumped into his airspeeder. He linked up to the HoloNet with his onboard computer and downloaded the latest maps of Dantooine. After finding his destination on the navigation computer, he fired up the engines and flew out of Khoonda, repulsors screaming at full throttle.

Skimming over fields of newly sprouted grain, he watched as Dantooine's star slowly descended in the western sky. Its harsh yellow radiation was replaced by the soft glow of Dantooine's twin moons. He cut over a massive lake, its black waters twinkling in the starlight and sent up a pillar of wash in his wake.

In the dim twilight, the Burad Hills approached. The earth inclined from the soft plains, growing into rugged terrain covered in sparse shrubbery. Beyond the inclination, the land opened up into a steep valley. Below, a wide river snaked through a grove of blba trees. There were an assortment of old estates and farm houses lining the valley. Most were abandoned or lie in crumbling ruins. In a few places, he could see the twisted and gnarled remnants of destroyed Confederate Armored Assault Tanks or Republic AT-PT walkers protruding like skeletons from the brush.

The navigation computer made a small blip when he reached five hundred meters way from the Jarok Manor. A small golden triangle lit up on the HUD over where it was located. He switched off the airspeeder's running lights, plunging into the dark for stealth.

Without the light, he had no real perception of the ground below and could very have flown straight into it. Calling upon the Force, he expanded his senses and spacial awareness. Through the Force's guidance, he could feel the ground below, with each rolling contour of the earth.

The manor sat upon a large hill. There were several buildings, an old house, two storage barns and a grain silo. Shadows were dancing across them from the orange-yellow glow of a bonfire burning in the middle of the grounds.

Fahon set his airspeeder down less than a hundred meters away behind a line of fat blba trees. There were more men than Fahon had seen back in Khoonda surrounding the fire. He counted twenty five of them in total. Among them, he spotted Rend, standing next to the fire with a drink in his hand. It looked as if he were telling an elaborate story to his comrades.

Fahon stalked through the shadows, taking cover behind a barn. Through the Force, he could feel their sense of merriment. Their intoxicated natures would make them even more volatile. He was put at ease when he saw the two crates of Bacta stacked against the barn on the opposite side of the fire. At least they hadn't sold it. With ever so careful footing, he made no sound and he eased his way through the shadows

He stepped out into the fire light. Druken eyes looked up at him sluggishly.

"I've come for the bacta," Fahon said. "Just as Rend here said earlier, let's do this the easy way. Please, hand it over peacefully."

Rend whirled around. For a moment he stood, surprised and confused, but then burst out laughing, dropping his cup of alcohol in the process. He didn't pick it back up, but instead drew one of his blasters. Humor evaporated from the group, replaced with deadly intent. Within a few heartbeats the others followed his cue and Fahon had over twenty weapons trained on him.

"I admit, you have some balls coming up here, making demands. But it was a real big mistake," Rend said.

"This is your last chance, lower your weapons," Fahon said, his voice serene.

"Who in the nine hells do you think--"

Before Rend could finish his sentence, Fahon stretched out with the Force, taking a grip on the lightsaber at the back of Rend's belt. It was a simple trick of telekinesis to detach The hilt tumbled, end over end, through the air and landed gently into the palm of Fahon's hand.

"What the—you're a Jedi!" Rend shouted and looked at the others. Their faces were lit with equal astonishment. As his focus returned, a grin spread across his lips.

"Don't just stand there, get him boys, a Jedi will fetch a nice bounty!"

There was a chorus of clicks as the group set their blasters to stun. Fahon thumbed the lightsaber's activation switch. With a _snap-hiss _an emerald green shaft came to life. Three blue bolts sizzled past him. He allowed the Force to guide his movements. Smoothly, he stepped back, swatted the volley of stun blasts aside in quick succession.

Two stray bolts hit the bonfire, sending a fountain of ashes into the air. A handful of others were redirected harmlessly into the night sky, cutting blue streaks across the stars. The remainder went straight back into the group of men, dropping several caught unaware. They collapsed like sacks of grain.

Calling upon the Force, Fahon jumped. Sailing through the air, high above the group, he flipped around and landed directly behind them. With swift grace, he moved through the thugs. Spirals and arcs of green flashed as he cut with his lightsaber. Severed hands, legs and blaster tips fell to the ground, their ends glowing cherry red. The air smelled of burning ozone and flesh.

Unscathed thugs scampered away, shrieking in cowardly fear. The injured and dying lay on the ground, moaning in pain as they clutched smoking wounds. Kendri and Oslow both had deep black lightsaber burns across their torsos.

The only one who still stood his ground was Rend. He had both blasters trained on Fahon. However, unlike the others, his weren't set to stun. They were at full power. Fahon felt his deadly intent through the Force. Fear and anger were as clear as day in the old clone trooper's brown eyes.

Fahon heard the ripping sound of swoops starting up and zipping off. He couldn't help but glance in their direction. Though he knew they would spread word of these events, he wouldn't let fear cloud his judgment. The moment in Khoonda flashed through his mind. There he had let his fear turn to anger and almost had made a bad choice. Yes, danger would be coming his way, but that was something he would deal with when the time came.

"Tell me Jedi, before I kill you, how did you survive?"

The lightsaber hummed as Fahon spun it around and lowered into the guard position. The blade was tipped vertically, ready to answer any blast to come his way.

"Only if you first tell me the name of the Jedi you killed to get this lightsaber."

"Ha, that old thing," Rend said. His pistols were still trained, his fingers a half a squeeze away from firing, like a serpent coiled for the strike.

"I don't know the name of the Jedi. As much as I'd love to have a glorious story of killing one of your kind, I don't. I won it from one of my brothers in game of sabacc, way before the end of the war. I guess a Jedi died in battle and he picked it up."

"Fair enough," Fahon said. "I shall honor your request. I survived because I wasn't surrounded by traitorous clones at the time. I was on a special assignment, from the Jedi Order, traveling to Republic worlds ravished by the war, delivering bacta and other supplies. The people were starting to mistrust the Republic and the Jedi as much as the Separatists. It was an effort to win over hearts and minds. Although, it seems they had the right instinct after all."

"So that's why you're selling Republic stamped bacta way out here," Rend said. "You just didn't give up on your mission, did you?"

"We don't have to fight Rend. Just lower your blasters. Let me take the bacta, make it easy on yourself. Enough of your friends were hurt here today because of stubbornness. You once served the people, the Republic, as I did. We are not enemies."

"Served?" Rend said, followed by a resentful snicker. "I was a slave, born and raised one. I fought valiantly for a Republic I had never lived in. For a people I had never met. I watched my brothers die, all around me. For what reason? We were all just pawns in one big game. Not like the Jedi, all high and mighty with their powers; even they were snuffed out."

"You misunderstand. I was taken as a child, made to train as a Jedi and serve the Republic. I don't even remember my parents, or where I came from. It was all because I could use the Force. I had much the same fate as you. I too was made a servant without a choice."

"There's a big difference. I'm smart. As soon as the war was over, I went AWOL. I wasn't about to be a slave to a place calling itself The Empire, no way. It was time for me to take back from the galaxy what I was never given, what me and my brothers sacrificed for," Rend explained.

"That doesn't give you a right to be a thief, Rend. Just put the blasters down. I don't want to hurt you," Fahon said.

"No, I'm not going to let any Republic, any Empire, or any Jedi boss me around. I'm my own man now!"

Rend squeezed off two shots and dived into a shoulder roll as the blasts came flying back at him. He came up out of his roll and fired two more a half second later. Again, Fahon swatted them both aside. The red blasts streaked off toward the twin moons.

With one swift jump, Fahon was on him. He swept his lightsaber across, cutting both blasters straight in half.

Fahon could feel the rage boiling inside Rend. The old clone dropped the severed pistols, rolled out backwards and was on his feet, vibrodagger at the ready, within a single moment. He dove at Fahon, trying to drive the blade into his heart.

Stepping aside, Fahon swung his lightsaber in a low arc, severing both of Rend's legs above the knees. Rend collapsed face first, howling with pain and rage. Before he hit the ground, Fahon plunged the lightsaber through his skull, leaving a smoking crater as he withdrew it.

He did not kill with hate in his heart, just the grim realization that he had no other choice.

"I tried to stop this from happening," Fahon said staring into the bonfire's blaze. He sounded tired. "I really did."

Rend was their ringleader. If Fahon had let the rogue clone live, surely he would have sought revenge. If not against Fahon, then against the Doctor and maybe even the citizens of Khoonda. He couldn't have allowed Rend continue his reign of terror.

He closed down the lightsaber.

* * *

Fahon was unloading the crates in the middle of Khoonda square, when Doctor Kassick spotted him from the window and made his way downstairs and outside.

"You really got them back, not without a fight, I suppose?"

"Unfortunately, I did have to fight them," Fahon said and picked up a crate.

The doctor grabbed the other and they proceeded inside. They set the crates down in the waiting room. Fahon reached into the pocket of his coveralls and produced the hold-out blaster, handing it back, grip up, to the doctor.

The doctor took the pistol and checked the power cell. It was still full. He gave Fahon a peculiar look and then noticed the hilt hanging from his belt loop.

"You're a--"

"Jedi," Fahon confirmed.

"A small wonder," the doctor said, still gazing at the lightsaber. "That is why you were so calm and confident when faced with mortal danger."

"I take it you've met Jedi before?"

"A few, I worked aboard a hospital ship during the war. I even treated a few of their wounded.

There was a long pause. Both men seemed deep in thought. The doctor spoke again.

"Did you kill them all?"

"I tried to avoid it, but they would not choose the easy path. Rend is dead, with a few others," Fahon explained. "Without Rend I'm sure the rest of the thugs will fracture into smaller gangs. I don't think you have worry about them."

"Rumor will spread, wont the Empire will be after you? What are you going to do?"

Fahon nodded. "I am going to continue delivering bacta. After that, I am going to do my best to protect the innocent."

"What, like some kind of Jedi vigilante?" the doctor asked.

"Jedi vigilante," Fahon mused. "I like the sound of that."


End file.
